


Sealed with a kiss

by spiffingtea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Endverse fluff, Fluff, M/M, mention of original Dean, more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:43:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffingtea/pseuds/spiffingtea
Summary: It is mere hours before they go shoot the Devil. Dean and Cas share one final moment.





	Sealed with a kiss

The sun, forever persistent, slinks slowly above the horizon. Cas perches on the top seat to the cabin, frowning with some resignation that he’s coming to the end of his spliff. He closes his eyes, exhaling smoke between his lips.

He feels the wooden boards creak behind him. He doesn't move.

Dean shuffles next to him, the width of the stairs not made for two men and so their knees jostle, thighs pressing against each other. Silence sinks between them for some time, bar the hopeful calls of birds in woodlands beyond the camp, Cas’ gentle sighs as he smokes, and the precise clatter as Dean cleans his gun. 

Cas grinds the stub under his heel. Dean glances over. 

“Last of your batch.”

“Was saving it for a special occasion.”

“Huh,” Dean inspects the barrel of his gun. “S’pose gutting the devil would count.”

“I was more assuming inevitable death, but sure, both works.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but his silence affirms his agreement. Eventually he speaks.

“Other me will be driving with you.”

Cas looks at him.

“Because you don’t want to see how fucked up you’ve become.”

Dean pauses, but there’s no predictable hardening of his shoulders, aggression growing in his muscles so that he tears the flesh in his palm with the gun.

He falters.

“No,” he mutters. “So he can see how much I’ve helped screw you up.”

Cas’ jaw drops,  and it’s his turn for his shoulders to draw up, tight. He scowls.

“You egotistical dick.” He starts, “Everything I’ve done was not _because_ of you, it was _for_ you. There was a time you remembered that.”

Dean stares at him. He whispers.

“I still do.”

And Dean leans forward, so gentle that Cas forgot he could hold himself this way, and he kisses Cas, long and warm and soft, and when Cas leans back for air his hands press on Dean's arms, staring at him.

“Was that a good luck kiss?” Cas asks, a little breathless.

“No,” Dean murmurs, eyes centered on Cas. “It’s a ‘don’t get yourself fucking killed’ kiss. I’m not done screwing you over yet.”

Cas tilts his head, and Dean kisses him again, long enough for Cas to press his shoulders against the rail of the stairs, enough for his mind to start wandering.

Dean is holding him as they part for breath, and he cannot resist brushing his thumb against Cas’ jaw, and Cas sees the ghost of his features soften. He wants to cry.

Dean pulls him up, and lets go.

“ _That_ was my good luck kiss.”

He assembles his gun, and stands up, knee creaking. He looks at Cas, for far longer than is sensible. He shoves the gun in his thigh holster.

“Don’t try to seduce past me.” Dean concludes, heading into the cabin. “You’ll give him a mid-life crisis.”

Cas stares at the ash, staining the stairs. “Sucks for him, then.”


End file.
